


An Eternity Beyond The Stars

by QuillsAndInk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angel Cas, Grace enhanced sex, M/M, Mates, Smut, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 03:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11394213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillsAndInk/pseuds/QuillsAndInk
Summary: "Your touch is the most eternal, lingering thing, and I have experienced the stars."





	An Eternity Beyond The Stars

_If you take a step towards me,_  
_You will take my breath away,_  
_So I'll keep you close and keep my secret safe._  
_No one else has ever loved me,_  
_No one else has ever tried._  
_I never understood how much I could take._  
_Then I saw the worst was over,_  
_When I laid my eyes on you._  
_It was all that I could do to know my place._  
_Out of all the vast illusions,_  
_Out of all the dreams come true,_  
_I was gone until I finally saw your face_.  
~Song #3, Stone Sour

 

It had been a long, long day. Or a long life. Dean couldn't tell the difference. Either way, one or both, it was shit.

He’d spent seven hours in that damn office, just waiting for the boss to show. The interview had been scheduled for eleven and when the boss hadn't shown on time, Dean, the stupid, useless soul that he was, had waited for him. Seven hours in that terrible office that was searing with the summer sun that burned through the only window. Of course Dean had to be trapped in there on the hottest day of the week. Why the hell had he waited that long? Dean needed the job, sure, but what kind of idiot waited for seven hours for an interview. God, he was the biggest dumbass in the world.

It was at six p.m. when the boss’s surly secretary told him that the boss wouldn't be coming in that day and Dean would need to try again. Dean forced a smile onto his unwilling lips.

"Can I reschedule for tomorrow?” Dean asked with all the politeness he could muster. The secretary spared him a look over her glasses

"You can only reschedule over the phone,” she explained through an aggrieved sigh. Dean gave her a nod and another smile and left. He took the elevator down to the first floor and walked briskly to the front doors to leave. Once outside, Dean found himself soaking wet and rattling with thunder. It seemed the heavens had opened up and loosed a downpour of biblical proportions upon the city. Dean’s printed resume didn't stand a chance. He allowed himself one growled curse at the sky before trying to hail a cab. Five drove past him before one stopped. Dean leapt inside.

“Hell of a day?” The driver asked. He looked at Dean from his rearview mirror. Sunglasses hid his eyes completely. For a split second Dean thought it was odd that he was wearing them at night, but he was too tired to care. He fought through his fatigue to offer the driver a winning smile.

“You have no idea,” Dean agreed. The driver gave a low chuckle that sounded like razor blades grating against gravel, though it wasn't devoid of warmth.

“I'm sure I do.”

“I waited for seven hours just to get an interview for a job. The boss didn't even show,” Dean argued.

“I agree. That's hell. But two days ago, someone shat in that seat,” the driver countered, gesturing behind him to the seat beside Dean. “Absolutely filthy and terrible to clean.”

“I think I'd rather have that,” Dean answered honestly. He was tired and soaking wet; in the moment he could imagine nothing worse.

“Then you have never cleaned shit out of a cab. Where can I take you?”

“Oh, uh…” Dean fumbled through his thoughts for his address. “306 Stone Boulevard.” The driver merely hummed in response. They drove for several silent moments.

“Why did you do it?” The driver asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?” Dean furrowed his brow. Dark sunglasses gazed at him from the rearview mirror.

“Why did you wait seven hours for an interview? Surely you knew after one or two the man interviewing you wouldn't show,” the driver asked. His voice was a balm to a restlessness that Dean had ignored for years. Dean’s cheeks darkened with a blush.

“I, uh, I really need that job.”

“Do you not already have work?” The driver’s voice was warm with compassion. Dean gave a one shouldered shrug.

“Yeah. I mean, I sell magazines over the phone. But it's a shitty job with shittier pay. I need more.”

“Ah, human greed is it?” The driver's voice colored with amusement.

“No!” Dean barked a little harshly. His blush tinged cheeks darkened further.

“There’s no need for hostility. You don't have to clarify the truth to me if you don't want to,” the driver's voice was deeply calming. Dean relaxed before he realized he had.

"No, it's just, I gotta put my brother through college.”

"Ah, seeking a job out of altruism. Admirable.” The driver made it sound like Dean hung the moon. Dean didn't quite know what to do with that, but something in him melted happily.

“I probably won't get it. I'm not that smart or anything. Hell, I'm terrible at selling magazines. Can't get easier than that,” Dean was babbling. But goddamn it felt good to get this shit off his chest. Besides, the driver was just so nice, he said all the right things that had Dean opening up like a book.

“I'm sure that's not true. You sound intelligent enough to me,” the driver said with shattering confidence that made Dean want to believe him.

“Nah,” Dean denied, “I'm probably not worth shit. But I gotta try, you know? For my brother.” They stopped at a stoplight. The driver craned his neck around to give Dean a once over. Dean was enthralled. A messy thatch of dark hair atop a round, scruffy face. The sunglasses that completely hid his eyes presented a mystery that Dean couldn't help but want to solve. In short, the driver was divine. His face was ethereal in a way cab drivers’ weren't and Dean couldn't tear his eyes away. A flutter went through his entire body. The driver seemed unaffected. He turned his gaze back to the road.

“You're worth just enough,” the driver declared simply.

“Enough for what?” Dean asked. The driver gave no reply, instead choosing to hum low in his throat again. Silence permeated the air for a little bit, until a car sped in front of the cab, forcing the driver to slam the breaks. Dean was pitched into the seat in front of him. The driver lamented in a language Dean couldn't understand, but he was certain a few venomous English words were mixed in. Dean sat back and instinctively looked into the rearview mirror to see how anger twisted in the driver’s brow.

The sunglasses had slipped down the driver's nose.

There, an eye of pure, beautiful blue was reflected in the mirror. An eye without a pupil or white. Just blue. An ocean of cerulean. Well. Not an ocean. Or perhaps not _just_ an ocean. Blue flame poured from the eye like a shallow beam from a flashlight piercing the darkness. Dean's throat went dry with fear. And his heart lit up with a spark of awe. He cleared his throat. The driver adjusted the sunglasses over his eyes. Silence.

“My mom used to tell me stories of angels,” Dean hedged. The driver’s face was impassive. “She said they had eyes of holy fire and they granted miracles.”

“Your mother is wrong. Everyone gets it wrong. I can't grant miracles, not without permission. No one can. If I could grant miracles, do you think I'd be driving a cab?” The driver grumbled.

“But you're an angel?” Fear was overshadowed by Dean’s curiosity.

“Mm,” the driver assented.

"Like, Michael? Or Gabriel?” Dean remembered his mother showing him figurines of the archangels when he was young. What were the others’ names?

"I suppose you mean that to be flattering, so I'll take it as a compliment,” the driver said, “but no. My name is Castiel.”

“Castiel,” Dean repeated. The name sounded ancient and beautiful, like poetry written in sugar and starlight from the beginning of time. Castiel’s whiskey and smoke voice was born to say his own name. Which Dean instantly regretted thinking because it was _weird_.

“Yes,” Castiel replied dryly, “That's my name.”

“How come you aren't in heaven?” Dean blurted out. He just couldn't believe it. A real live angel. Castiel’s mouth took a bitter twist.

“A quarrel with my brothers. I've chosen not to return for some time,” Castiel replied tersely. Dean really didn't know what to say to that. How could a fight with one’s brother lead to a full, self imposed exile? Dean hesitated a moment before leaning forward and reaching out to wrap his fingers around Castiel's shoulder. He was warm and delightfully solid beneath the sweater he was wearing.

“That sucks,” Dean offered. Castiel outright laughed at that. He lifted his hand to cover Dean's. Warm fingers slotted between Dean’s knuckle bones.

“What other angels have you encountered?” Castiel asked. Dean swore he detected a hint of…was that jealousy in his voice?

“Uh, none?” Dean was uncertain and utterly distracted by Castiel's hand over his. It felt like electricity was roaring up from the point of contact, turning Dean’s muscles to goop.

“Are you asking me?” Castiel thumbed Dean’s knuckles which easily stole Dean’s ability to breathe. Castiel simply drove on.

“Well, I don't know if I've met any. I wouldn't have known you were one till your shades slipped,” Dean explained. Castiel hummed thoughtfully and released Dean’s hand. Dean withdrew it from Castiel's shoulder and couldn't fight a sense of cold emptiness that washed over him.

"You're taking your first known meeting of an angel remarkably well,” Castiel commented after a moment. Dean shrugged.

“I'm probably in shock.” Castiel shook his head and reached a hand over the seat to Dean. Dean took it before he even realized he'd made a decision to do so.

“No. Not shock. You're _irreverent_. Beautifully aware of my power from your mother’s stories and yet, you have the audacity to touch me without permission. Most I've met prostrate themselves at my feet. You won't. You amaze me. You amaze me and I don't even know your name,” Castiel’s voice held such wonder. It was warm and sweet as honey and Dean wanted to curl up inside it.

“I’m Dean,” Dean told him, “Dean Winchester.”

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel repeated. Dean’s name sounded great and powerful in Castiel's voice. If Dean hadn't known better, he would have thought himself a Biblical hero.

Suddenly, the cab stopped in front of Dean’s building. Dean blinked, suddenly hyper aware that there was a world outside of the cab. It sure looked lonely out there.

“What do I owe you?” Dean asked.

“Your company was payment enough,” Castiel replied with a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Hey, um,” Dean started. He swallowed a pause because he knew he had to continue before he lost his nerve. “I'm on the third floor. 3C. You know, if you want some more of my company.”

“I think more company would be delightful,” Castiel replied and put the cab into park. Dean wanted to say that it was illegal to park the cab there, but it didn't matter. He was bringing an angel into his apartment. If only his mom could see him now.

Castiel and Dean exited the cab. The downpour had been reduced to a drizzle and neither man nor angel got anything more than damp as they went into the apartment building. They stepped into the elevator and stood side by side in silence for a few awkward moments before Dean’s hand bumped Castiel's and their fingers just sort of twined together. Dean didn't know how, but they did, and the warmth and pressure of Castiel's palm against his chased away any feeling except a warm fuzzy one in his chest.

Once in Dean’s apartment, Dean found himself feeling totally inadequate. The place was messy and holy hell he'd brought an angel here for what, exactly?

“Could I trouble you for a shower? I'd like to quickly rinse off the grime I've certainly collected over the day.” Castiel said suddenly.

“Uh, sure. Bathroom’s there,” Dean pointed Castiel in the direction. Castiel gave a nod of thanks and went. The telltale sound of running water started moments later. Dean went to his bedroom, which was exactly across the tiny hall, and took his pants off with every intention of dressing in something more comfortable when he stopped. He had an angel. In his house. How fucking absurd. A bubbly laugh escaped his throat, but it quickly stopped when the shower shut off.

A minute later, Castiel exited the bathroom, mostly dry and completely naked. Dean first was drawn to his eyes, the blue fire unhidden and out for the world to see. Castiel noticed his gaze and approached. Dean’s eyes traveled down to Castiel's flaccid cock that lay gently atop his heavy sac. Dean’s blood ran south.

“Am I to take that as an invitation?” Castiel asked, his voice bright with mirth. “Come to me.” Dean shuffled over to Castiel, embarrassed by Castiel's lack of clothes. It melted away when Castiel’s arms came to encircle him and draw him closer.

Castiel’s bare skin was warm from the shower and Dean collapsed against him. He'd never felt more safe in his life. Castiel pressed their foreheads together. Dean parted his lips, frustrated with the short distance that separated them from Castiel's. Castiel ran the pad of his thumb over Dean’s lower lip and Dean shuddered.

“ _Cas_ ,” he murmured. Castiel smiled wide.

“Dean, lovely thing, do you consent?” Their lips were inches apart. Castiel's breaths blew hot air over his mouth.

“Yes,” Dean pleaded, “Yes, I consent.” Castiel purred. And then his lips were on Dean's and his tongue was inside Dean’s mouth, mapping the inside of it like it was his birthright. Dean groaned into the kiss. His cock was straining against his boxers. He lapped Castiel's taste from his tongue and winced when their careless teeth clacked together. Hot breaths ghosted over Dean's saliva sodden lips, stealing his will to breath and sending a shiver down his spine. When Castiel pulled away, Dean was breathing hard with swollen lips and he felt so empty, he whimpered. Castiel took a step back. Dean immediately missed his heat.

“Shh, my precious gem, can't you see what you've done to me?” Castiel asked, his voice instantly returning Dean’s fast beating heart to a state of calm. Dean looked down. Castiel's cock was engorged and curving up towards his belly. Dean licked his lips and looked back up at Castiel who had amusement in his countenance. Dean couldn't get much from his eyes, but the rest of his face was so expressive.

“I see what you want, lovely, but it'll have to wait. First, I must admit, I want to have a taste of you.” Dean nodded vigorously as words failed him. “And then,” Castiel continued, “I want to be inside you. Do you consent?”

“Cas, please,” Dean agreed, “yes, I consent, _please_.”

“Of course,” Castiel stepped closer again, unbuttoned Dean’s shirt and pushed it off. “I'll never leave you wanting.” Dean jutted his hips unbidden and Castiel smiled. He ran a finger over the tent in his underwear and dabbed at the small wet spot where Dean had been steadily leaking precome. With all the gentleness in the world, Castiel sank to his knees and mouthed at Dean's cloth covered cocked, further dampening the fabric and pulling a whimper from Dean's throat. The flames in Castiel's eyes licked at Dean's belly and Dean fancied that the twin fires warmed his insides. He was distracted from his thoughts by Castiel running a finger beneath the waistband of his underwear before pulling them down so Dean could step out of them.

“So, good,” he whispered and Dean swore he could win a Nobel Prize if Castiel only praised him. Castiel admired Dean and puffed a warm breath over Dean’s cock and Dean whined as a blurt of precome beaded at his tip. Castiel gently poked out the tip of his tongue and ran in lasciviously over Dean’s slit. Dean’s hips gave a shallow buck.

"Please,” Dean groaned. Castiel simply gave his cock another lick.

" _Ambrosia_ ,” he growled, before sucking Dean’s cock down quickly enough to make Dean’s head spin. He keened high in his throat and whip corded inwards around Castiel's kneeling body, his hands finding firm holds in Castiel’s dark hair.

Castiel didn't really move his head too much but he suckled and he suckled hard. Dean could feel the back of Castiel's throat fluttering open and shut around the head of his cock. As an angel, it seemed, Castiel had no gag reflex and no need to breathe, which was fine with Dean. He canted his hips shallowly as the expert suction and swirling of Castiel’s tongue along his shaft became his undoing.

He was barely coherent when his balls drew up tight and he exploded come down Castiel's throat in thick spurts. Castiel held him in his mouth and gently rubbed his hips as Dean worked through the aftershocks. Dean’s legs trembled. Castiel released Dean’s cock and stood to support him.

“Do you have any lubricant?” Castiel asked. Dean nodded bonelessly.

“In the drawer by the bedside table. I'm warning you, I might not be able to get it up after that. I think I just shot my brains out my dick.” Castiel chuckled roughly.

“Shooting one’s brain matter out their penis sounds rather painful. I'll be sure never to suck you like that again.” He guided Dean’s still shaking, blush-dappled form to the bed where Dean collapsed. He mustered up enough energy to spare Castiel a tired glare as he retrieved the lube.

“You big, beautiful ass,” Dean grumbled, “you know that's not what I meant.”

“I welcome the appreciation, but I'm rather more interested in _your_ ass,” Castiel replied with a mischievous grin. Castiel then flopped atop Dean to kiss him. Castiel had more heft than he looked to have and Dean was pleasantly crushed by his warm weight. Castiel's hard cock was trapped right against Dean’s newly softened one. Dean whimpered at the friction on his overly sensitive genitals. Castiel gave Dean a syrupy sweet kiss and sat up to cup a protective hand around Dean’s cock. Dean instantly missed his warmth.

“My darling heart, I see your discomfort. Please allow me to remove it,” Castiel whispered in a soft, reverent croon that was only for Dean. His hand started to glow faintly blue, like the fire in his eyes, and he wrapped it around Dean’s cock. At once Dean began to swell until his cock was a good match for Castiel's. Castiel lowered his head and suckled on Dean’s balls, first one, then the other, until the sac drew up tight beneath his engorged cock. Castiel pressed another gentle kiss into Dean’s thigh.

“Oh, Cas,” Dean grunted at the loss of Castiel's mouth.

"My apologies, sweet thing, that was not my purpose, but I can't seem to stop bringing you pleasure. Forgive me?” Dean raised his head to look at him, dark hair wild, lips swollen and eyes bright with flame. Dean had done that. To an angel. He couldn't help but feel a thrill of pride in his chest.

“Yeah, Cas, _fuck_ , just please do something,” Dean growled. Castiel grinned.

"I like this side of you,” he replied as he reached for the lube. He popped the cap and poured a generous amount onto his fingers. Castiel pushed Dean’s legs up and rubbed the back of his hand against Dean’s ass. “Beautiful,” he murmured. Dean blushed. He pressed a slick finger between Dean’s cheeks and circled Dean’s hole.

“C-Cas,” Dean stuttered out a breath, overwhelmed with the feeling.

"Are you virginal?” Castiel asked. His face has morphed into something predatory.

“Uh, no. It's just...it's been a while. Years,” Dean muttered with embarrassment. Castiel petted Dean’s spread legs.

“I will make sure I don't cause you pain,” Castiel gentled as he pressed one finger inside of Dean, who grunted at the penetration. Castiel shushed Dean and curled his finger to find Dean’s prostate, which sent Dean arching off the bed with a loud moan. A second finger quickly joined the first and they carefully scissored until Dean was open and relaxed. Castiel added a third.

“Come on,” Dean barked at him, “I want you.”

“And you'll have me, sweet. But any tearing to your rectum would cause you immense pain and I'd never forgive myself for hurting you. You must be completely relaxed for me,” Castiel explained. Dean was placated for the moment. That was, until Castiel removed his fingers entirely to slick up his cock. Dean felt so cold and empty and wanton he felt tears leak from the corners of his eyes.

Then he felt something long and rigid against his hole. Castiel circled the head of his cock around it enticingly. Dean’s hole fluttered; it was as though it was trying to entreat Castiel to enter. But Castiel kept up his teasing circles, smearing lube and precome everywhere except where Dean wanted it. Dean gave Castiel his hardest glare. Castiel met his gaze with only a countenance of mischief.

Then finally, finally, Castiel placed the head of his cock flush with Dean’s hole and pressed. It was agonizingly slow, but Dean’s rim gave way after a moment and the head breached him. The shaft was swallowed up until Castiel bottomed out. Dean cried and Castiel made a low sound that was so wrecked Dean lifted his head in surprise. The flames of his eyes were brighter than ever before and his face was contorted with obvious pleasure. He stroked a hand over Dean’s stomach.

“Oh, Dean, my sweet, precious thing. So good. You're so _good_ ,” Castiel groaned.

“Cas, fucking...just fucking _move_ ,” Dean growled out. Castiel leaned over him to press a gentle kiss to his chest.

“As you wish,” and with that, Castiel pulled out of Dean and slammed back in. His thrusts were hard and fast and Dean did his best not to be a lazy lover, but goddamn Castiel moved like lightning and all Dean could do was clutch at Castiel’s shoulders. Every roll of Castiel's hips sent Dean aquiver with the force. Castiel rocked into him with ferocity and his face burned with hunger but his arms only held himself up, with occasional one lifting to stroke Dean’s face. He was rough and hard and so, so loving and it all just made Dean’s head spin. Heat pooled in his belly, but there were no words he could form; Castiel had cleared his mind of everything but the two of them: the feeling of a cock in his ass, the warmth of Castiel's nearness, right down to the angel’s odd lack of most bodily fluids. The room became a world all its own, filled with the scent of Dean’s sweat and heavy with the language of their quiet moans.

Suddenly, the world went fuzzy around the edges and Dean could barely cry out a strangled “ _Cas_ ,” before he was coming in ropes of white all over himself and clamping down on Castiel's cock that was firmly imbedded within him. Had Dean really thought he had shot his brains out his dick before? Apparently he had another thing coming.

Castiel’s hand came over his eyes and there was a high pitched ringing and a clap of thunder and the room took on the smell ozone and a thousand burning suns. There was a distinct, screaming brightness that filtered between Castiel’s fingers, making Dean grateful for the hand over his eyes. Then Dean felt the strange, burning heat within him. Castiel’s hips stuttered and he was coming with the most beautifully broken noise in the world and Dean _felt it_. Fiery angel come, torching his insides in the best way as his chest hummed alive with the sounds Castiel made.

Finally, finally, after what seemed like hours, Castiel pulled out of Dean and removed the hand from over his eyes. Castiel flopped down and Dean rolled to nuzzle against him. The room was blessedly dark, no hint of the incredible light Dean had seen in the spaces between Castiel’s fingers. The smell of raw celestial power remained. Dean tucked himself snugly against Castiel's front and sighed into his too warm body. Castiel’s flaming eyes had dulled to their normal brightness, only flaring in power as he cleaned them of their fluids with a snap of the fingers.

“Have I pleasured you well?” Castiel’s voice came rougher and therefore, to Dean’s mind, sexier than ever before.

"Yeah, Cas, you've _pleasured me well_. Ugh, who the hell even talks like that?” Dean snarked back sleepily. Castiel’s arm came around his middle.

“I could smite you for such impertinence,” Castiel warned with a languid stroke of Dean’s back. Dean arched into the touch, suddenly yearning for as much contact as Castiel could give him.

"This is America. Free speech and all that,” Dean shot back. He pressed a chaste kiss to Castiel's sternum.

"What a brave little ant you are. I could lay waste to your cities and countries with my power. I could stamp out your very existence without even trying,” Castiel grumbled, but not without good temper. A thrill went up Dean’s spine. He'd just had sex with _that_. The destroyer of worlds, or their creator, the most beautiful being Dean Winchester had ever laid eyes on, and Dean was lucky enough to have him in his bed.

“Cas, that's just hot,” Dean explained. Castiel huffed without malice.

"You're incorrigible, sweet thing,” he curled his body around Dean’s more securely and dipped his head to Dean’s lips for a brief kiss that Dean returned enthusiastically. Castiel pulled away and shut his mouth tight like he was trying to hold Dean’s kiss inside himself.

“I could stay here forever if you keep giving me kisses like that,” Dean said around a smile.

“My precious gem, your touch is the most eternal, lingering feeling and I have experienced the stars,” Castiel whispered. Dean gave a wide yawn as he replied,

“Sap.”

“Sleep,” Castiel urged him, “I'll be right here when you awaken.” Dean nestled more deeply against Castiel. He wouldn't need blankets; the angel’s body heat would be more than enough to keep him warm.

“Aye aye, cap’n,” Dean managed before slumber dragged him into the depths of his dreams.

****

Dean woke up the next morning to warmth and arms. Sunlight streamed in through his imperfect blinds and warmed his back while the slumbering body of Castiel kept his front cozy. The moment he stirred, Castiel’s eyes flew open, blue fire immediately blazing more light into the gloom of the room.

"You're awake.” Castiel’s voice was husky from lack of use, but it was unencumbered by sleep.

“I am. So are you, sleepyhead,” Dean fired back. Even groggy, Dean found himself enjoying banter with Castiel.

“I don't sleep; I'm an angel. I merely closed my eyes so their light wouldn't affect you,” Castiel replied. Dean lifted his head to place a lazy kiss on Castiel's lips.

“Well that was thoughtful of you.” Castiel sucked a languid mark into Dean’s neck.

“Perhaps I’ll ask some recompense for my kindness,” Castiel rumbled. Dean grinned.

“C’mon, Cas, I gotta try to get an interview today,” he laughed. Castiel nuzzled his neck.

"Stay. You have me now. You and yours will want for nothing.”

"I have you?” Dean choked out. He had an angel? As in an angel for a boyfriend? Did Castiel really like him that much?

“Of course. We shared intercourse. You're my mate,” Castiel replied as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“Wait,” Dean's head was spinning. Mate? _Mate_? What the fuck?

“You're thinking rather hard about this. I can see it,” Castiel commented. Something like worry spread across his face.

“Wait. Does sex mean we're angel married?” Dean demanded. The discomfort in Castiel's manner grew.

“Well, marriage is a human occurrence more than an angel one, but to my understanding they are essentially similar. Angels mate for life, as do humans,” Castiel replied.

“Yeah, but it takes, like, years of dating to get to that point,” Dean explained weakly.

“Foolish. Your lives are very brief, you should spend as much time as you can being mated. I’ve heard it is a wonderful experience.” Castiel ran a thumb over Dean’s shoulder.

“I guess, but c’mon, Cas. It was just sex,” Dean huffed as his brain caught up.

"There's no such thing. You and I were joined carnally, I sewed my seed deep within your body and though it could not produce a child, it marked you. Any non-human being will treat it as a claim and you will be protected for a while,” Castiel told him, “I understand humans can be fickle, but there is no denying that.”

Dean pulled away from Castiel's chest to give him a hard look. He really barely knew him. But some part of him knew he couldn't just let the angel leave. This wasn't just a one night stand. Castiel whispered promises of love and safety and prosperity for Dean and his family into Dean’s neck. His tone pleaded Dean to accept him.

“Oh, Cas,” Dean sighed warmly.

“I will cherish you, my precious gem. I'll pleasure you, and protect you, and provide for you and at the time of your death I will follow your soul to the kingdom of heaven so we can be together for eternity, even if it means I have to put up with my brothers,” Castiel promised.

“Cas, this is sudden…” Dean trailed off.

"But _you_ entreated _me_ to have sex. It wasn't just my interest in you. You must have felt that we were right for each other, as I did,”

"You felt that? All that tingly, electric stuff?” Dean asked, breathless with wonder. Castiel kissed him hard and lovingly.

"Of course I felt it! We were meant to be mates. God clearly wills it. I will avow to you anything and everything that is my right to give. All I ask, Dean, sweet, precious, beautiful thing, is that you are faithful to me,” Castiel’s voice filled with passion and urgency. He pulled Dean close and Dean melted against him further. Maybe God did will this. It just felt so right.

"Okay, Cas. Okay. I _avow_ my faithfulness,” Dean huffed out a laugh. This was all so confusing and absurd and wonderful. What the hell. Dean knew he would fall for Castiel. Somehow, he just did. It was only a matter of time. “Are we angel married now?” Castiel rolled his eyes.

"If you insist on using your human terminology, yes.”

"Aww, are you gonna go get me a pretty ring?” Dean batted his lashes. Castiel tossed his head like he was rolling his eyes. Maybe he was. Dean couldn't tell from the flame.

"Don't make me regret taking you as my mate.”

"Aw, c’mon, you love me,” Dean smiled, but there was no mirth, only genuine happiness. Castiel’s expression softened.

"I do, lovely, I really do.”

“I’ll get there, Cas,” Dean said softly.

"I know, sweet thing,” Castiel stroked his shoulder.

"I'll make it up to you,” Dean promised.

“You can now. Is it not customary for humans to kiss at the end of their weddings? You did call us ‘angel married’ and as your husband I’d like to make sure I don't stop you from carrying out your cultural traditions.” Castiel gave Dean a sly grin that Dean returned in kind.

"True. Well, you may now kiss the groom,” Dean replied. And kiss Dean Castiel did.

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own nor do I claim to own Supernatural or the characters therein. They belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. I also do not own the lyrics at the beginning, they belong to Stone Sour. All rights reserved. I own nothing but the plot. I make no monetary benefit from this story. I live to entertain.


End file.
